


A Couple of Bums

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 01:48:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: Our two favorite Bay City detectives out of their element and into dangerous territory.





	A Couple of Bums

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this story was inspired by the Me_and_Thee 100’s Challenge 453 - Learn Something New Every Day. Thanks, taass!

“I swear, Starsk, it’d be worth blowing our cover for the chance to take a long, hot shower.”

“What good would it do? We’d just have to put these smelly clothes back on.”

“These _filthy_ , smelly clothes. Didn’t think about that,” Hutch admitted.

“Besides, I’m almost used to it.” Starsky chuckled. “Either that or my sinuses have been burned out and I can’t smell anything anymore.”

“Think we’ll ever get the stench out of our memories?”

“Hopefully. But the cold? I didn’t know it was possible to _be_ this cold!”

Hutch decided to try a little levity. “Would that come under the heading of learning something new every day?”

“Probably, but you’re able to wise-off only because you’ve got the back part of the carton. I’m here in the front where the wind can get to me.”

“I offered to let you crawl in first.”

“I know. Guess I’m in a bitchy mood ‘cause we’re no closer to catching whoever’s slicing up homeless guys than we were three weeks ago.”

“We can quit any time, partner. Dobey doesn’t expect us to stay out here all winter.”

“Not quitting yet, Hutch. These people have nowhere to go but this cardboard community. I’m not leaving before we find the killer.”

Hutch managed to roll onto his back in their cramped refrigerator carton without jamming an elbow into any of his partner’s sensitive regions. He settled and drew Starsky into his arms, pulling their one, thin blanket around them. The dark, dirty curls tickled his nose and he sneezed.

Starsky wormed his arms around Hutch’s waist. “I hate this as much as you do, but if we can catch whoever’s preying on these people, it’ll be worth every minute of this disgusting operation.”

“Dobey thinks we can do it. Especially since you bear a resemblance to the three dead men and, therefore, might be good bait.”

Starsky huffed. “Not much of a resemblance.”

“Dark, curly hair, a little over six feet tall, athletic - before you became a bum.”

Starsky chuckled again. “Only time I’ve been over six feet tall was in those shoes you got me when we were Rafferty and O’Brien.”

Hutch laughed out loud. “Which one was I again?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not now, not ever.” He drew Starsky close.

Starsky sighed and his shivers lessened. “Sure glad Dobey was willing to give us a week to dirty ourselves up while he arranged for Elijah and Charles to have space in the new shelter.”

Hutch nodded. “Couldn’t take the chance that we’d run into them on the streets. Not that they’d ever give us away intentionally…”

“But why put them in that position?” Starsky finished.

“It worked out perfectly. I wouldn’t have wanted to try this with phony beards. We needed to grow our own stubble.”

“Wear the same ratty clothes for days and never bathe.”

“Work in the garden and not clean our fingernails,” Hutch added.

“My mouth can’t wait to taste toothpaste again.”

Hutch stroked his back. “The things we do for the job, huh, Starsk?”

“Three weeks and counting. But at least there haven’t been any more stabbings since we crawled into the scene.”

“Wonder if whoever’s doing it knows we’re cops and that’s why he’s stopped?”

“How could he, Hutch? Our cover’s pretty solid, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would, yes, but who knows what lines the perp has into the department? Maybe somebody told him about us and he’s either moved to another city or is keeping his head down until we get tired of the gig, give up and go home.”

“What if it’s because we’ve been patrolling together?” Starsky lifted up on one elbow and stared at him; the light was dim, yet the deep blue eyes were intense. “Maybe we should split up next time we go out.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Neither do I. But it’s a pretty small area, we’d be able to hear each other if one of us got into any trouble.”

“Starsk --”

“No, I mean it. If the perp sees two guys walking around, he’s going to think twice about making any kind of a move.” 

Hutch knew his partner was right but he wasn’t happy about it. “What if we take our last tour, tonight, together, and try it separately tomorrow night?”

Starsky settled. “Talked me into it.”

Hutch wrestled his pocket watch out from inside his overcoat, pulled his arm from under the blanket and checked the time - there was just enough light to see the elegant hands - before he hid it away where it had been. Neither of them could wear a wristwatch during this op and Hutch didn’t want anyone catching a glimpse of his grandfather’s timepiece. He re-tucked the blanket around them. “Let’s sleep for an hour before we go out again.”

Starsky snuggled close. “We’re the best chance these men have, Hutch. A bunch of them are vets and it tears me apart knowing they have nowhere to go except rat-ridden alleys and these underpasses. I don’t want to give up yet.”

Hutch held him tighter. “We won’t. We’re in this until we figure out who’s behind the killings and put a stop to it. And him.”

Starsky raised his head, offering his mouth, ‘sly’ in his voice: “Even if that means stinky bodies for the duration?”

Hutch kissed the lips. “Even if.”

*******

In the morning, everybody shuffled the mile and a half to the mission for a bathroom break and a hot meal. 

“Another night when nobody got stabbed,” a wiry, long-haired man crowed. “You two must be our lucky charm, Dave!”

Starsky shrugged. “Any little thing we can do, Tom.”

“Bound to be a good meal this morning!” a ragged man they knew as Smitty said as they passed through the mission’s front doors. “I smell pancakes! Samantha must be back! She doesn’t burn ‘em the way Arthur does.”

“Back from where?” Hutch asked.

“San Diego,” Bennie, another denizen of the underpass, replied. “She’s been trying to find a new director for their operation there.” 

The line of homeless men progressed along the counter full of warming trays and baskets of bread, receiving generous portions of flapjacks, sausage links and fried potatoes. A youngish man and woman spoke to each person by name as he passed in front of them. Starsky and Hutch maneuvered themselves into being the last ones in line.

While she was filling a new plate, the man nudged her shoulder. “These guys arrived while you were gone, Sam. I’d like you to meet Dave Stanley and Ken Hudson.”

Handing Starsky the plate, she studied him. “You look almost like my father, Mr. Stanley, before he gave in to the drugs. Handsome, virile, quick with a smile.” Her cheerful mood vanished. “He was never the same after he came back from Vietnam, though.”

The man nudged her again. “These men don’t want to hear about dad.” 

“Yes we do, really,” Starsky countered. “I was there, Ms. Davies. I know something of what your father probably went through.”

An unreadable expression dropped onto her face as she extended Hutch’s plate and he took it. “Father’s dead, Arthur, so there’s no reason whatsoever to talk about him.” She stared at Starsky, then Hutch. “Enjoy your breakfast.” 

“I’m sorry,” Starsky began. “I didn’t mean --”

She waved off his apology, turning toward the kitchen. “Meatloaf tonight.” 

Arthur watched her push through the door before facing Starsky and Hutch, his expression solemn. “She adored him but he was a different person after the war.” He gestured to the large room. “I’ll bring your coffees.”

Starsky and Hutch moved to a corner table. Arthur brought three large mugs and sat with them.

“Tell us about your father,” Hutch prompted.

Arthur contemplated his coffee while Starsky and Hutch ate in silence. 

Finally, the young man looked up. “He couldn’t cope with the pain the doctors said wasn’t there. He was wounded twice, not seriously either time, but he always claimed to be in pain. Had continual nightmares but wouldn’t see a shrink.” He sipped his coffee. “Couldn’t hold a job. Was morose and uncommunicative most of the time he was around us, the times he wasn’t off with his drug-addicted friends. Samantha tried to reach him but it was almost as if he didn’t know who she was any more. Mother put up with it as long as she could, then filed for divorce. When she did that, he left and started living on the streets with other addicts, most of them out-of-work vets, like him. Oh, he’d come back from time to time, saying he was going into a program - was going to give up the drugs. But it didn’t usually last very long. As soon as the divorce was final, mom took us to San Diego.”

“What happened to him?” Starsky asked, sopping up syrup with a slice of bread. “Samantha said he’s dead. How did it happen?”

“The cops told us he was stoned,” Arthur replied. “He must have tried to mug someone who fought back. Had his throat cut with his own pocket knife.” 

“Is that why you two run these missions?” Hutch prodded. “Because you want to help men like your father?”

Arthur thought about it before shaking his head. “I don’t really know. It was Sam’s idea and she talked me into it. Neither one of us had anything else important going on in our lives so we opened the one in San Diego first, then this one.” He gestured around at the plain walls. “We’re not religion-oriented. The men don’t have to endure a sermon with their meals. We don’t make them quote psalms before we let them use the restroom. We just feed them. Sometimes, when the weather’s really bad, we push the tables and chairs to the wall and they sleep on the floor.”

He drank more coffee and shrugged. “They’re always afraid they’ll lose their places in the alleys and under the interchanges, though, so we don’t do that too often.”

“Where does the money come from?” Starsky shoveled in potatoes as he looked ingenuously at Arthur. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” Arthur actually smiled. “Our grandfather was a miner in Oatman, Arizona. He had his own claim way back in the Black Mountains so he wasn’t affected when United Eastern shut down their operation and most of the mines in twenty-four. Granddad went on digging gold out of those hills until the government forced him to close in forty-one.”

Hutch exchanged an unenlightened look with Starsky before saying, “Dave and I have never heard of Oatman. Where is it?”

Arthur laughed. “It’s a tiny little place between Kingman, Arizona and Needles, California, on old Route Sixty-Six. Its one claim to fame was being the honeymoon spot for Clark Gable and Carole Lombard. They stayed in the Oatman Hotel. Probably fed the burros, like everybody else who goes there, since it’s become a marginally-famous ghost town.”

Hutch didn’t try to hide his genuine interest. “What happened after your grandfather left there? That is, I presume he left.”

Arthur got up, went to the coffee machine and brought back the pot, filling all their cups, before he sat back down. “Granddad and grandma moved to San Diego and lived in pretty good style, I guess. Dad was five. They were well-off you might say, and when the price of gold soared, they became very rich. Sam and I have two of these missions and we’re funded for life.”

Starsky swallowed a mouthful of pancakes. “If your father was five in nineteen forty-one, what in the world was he doing in the Vietnam war? Wasn’t he too old?”

Arthur sipped his fresh coffee and nodded. “Probably. But he was gung-ho and the army was having trouble getting enough recruits in sixty-eight, so they took him. Made him an officer.”

Hutch pushed his empty plate aside and picked up his cup. “What did your mother have to say about that?” 

Arthur grimaced. “She wasn’t too happy, as I’m sure you can imagine. Sam was eleven, I was twelve. Our grandparents were getting old and, I fully admit, my sister and I were a handful. Mom pleaded with dad but his mind was made up.”

“How many tours did he serve?” Starsky asked.

Arthur’s expression turned grim. “We all lost count. He was on one of the last planes out when Saigon fell in seventy-five.”

Starsky shuddered visibly. “That’s an awful long time in-country.”

Arthur closed his eyes in obvious agreement, then finished his coffee. “And when he came back he was changed.” Suddenly shoving his chair away from the table, he got up. “Sorry, fellas, didn’t mean to burden you with ancient history.” He re-filled Starsky’s and Hutch’s cups before walking away with the now-empty pot.

Starsky swallowed the last bite of his breakfast. “You thinkin’ what I am?” 

Hutch nodded. “Samantha and Arthur are both hung up on their late father.”

“Who looked like me.”

“Yeah.”

******* 

After breakfast, the men went their separate ways, to their individual begging turf. Starsky and Hutch walked with Bennie to his usual street corner. Since the sun was out and the morning was warming nicely, they shed their heavy coats, made pillows out of them and sat on the sidewalk, as out-of-the-way as possible of pedestrians. 

Bennie took off his hat, which already had a dollar bill, seed money, inside, and laid it in front of their feet. Then he pulled out a harmonica and began to blow the introductory bars of “Where Have All The Flowers Gone?”

Hutch sang the verses while Starsky added harmony on the repeated ‘When will they ever learn?’ lines and kept the slow beat on a trash can lid. Before the final notes had been played and sung, coins and several dollar bills had joined the single greenback in Bennie’s hat.

During the previous three weeks, they’d been Bennie’s companions in this spot and Bennie admitted he’d never found the passersby to be as generous as they’d been since Dave and Ken had added their voices to his.

Obviously pleased by their early success, Bennie nodded at Hutch. “You sing better ‘n me, Ken, why don’t you take ‘Scotch and Soda’?”

Hutch obliged and, within an hour of singing and playing numerous Mamas and Papas, Kingston Trio and Bob Dylan favorites, the hat was brimming. 

As vehicle and foot traffic lessened, most people now at work, Bennie gathered the hat in and divided the take. Keeping half for himself - it was, after all, his long-time turf, he gave half to Hutch. “With this nice, warm day, I’m bettin’ the lunch crowd’ll eat up the happy shit. What say we do only the Kingston Trio’s silly stuff?”

Hutch handed the money to Starsky. “Maybe a few upbeat Simon and Garfunkle? They had some great ones.”

“Yeah! No ‘Tom Dooley’ today!” Starsky said, with a grin.

“You guys won’t be leavin’ any time soon, will ya?” Bennie sounded nervous all of a sudden as he put the hat back out on the sidewalk. “I mean, I ain’t had this much attention paid to my playin’ and singin’ in years!” 

Starsky glanced at Hutch. “No, Bennie. We’ll be here for a while.”

Bennie looked as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders. “The other guys’ll be pleased to hear that. Like Tom said this morning, we’re startin’ t’ think of you as our lucky charms.”

“Don’t give us too much credit,” Hutch said. “Could be a coincidence that there haven’t been any attacks since we got here.”

“Yeah,” Starsky added. “We’re not miracle workers, Bennie, just bums, like yourselves.”

Bennie eyed them both. “Somthin’ tells me that’s not true but I ain’t questionin’ ya. None of us have been killed in three weeks and that makes me happy!”

“What did you see, Bennie?” Hutch asked, ingenuously. “During those three attacks? Anything that could help the police find the killer?”

“Like what?” Bennie asked.

Starsky shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know… like a figure? A shadow? Fat? Skinny? Tall? Short? Did you hear any footsteps? A voice?”

Bennie shook his head emphatically. “Naw! We’ve all talked about it, an’ none of us seen or heard nothin’! We figured it musta been a ghost.”

Hutch patted Bennie’s arm. “You don’t believe in ghosts, Bennie. Not really. So there must be some other explanation.”

“Was there any connection between the three man?” Starsky asked.

“Nothin’ except for the resemblance. They all sorta looked alike.” Bennie stared at Starsky. “Like you.”

A well-dressed businessman stopped in front of them, a kindly smile on his face. “What are you gentlemen entertaining us with today?”

Bennie put the harmonica to his mouth and blew the first bars of ‘Feelin’ Groovy.’

Hutch and Starsky sang and the hat filled up again.

Huggy Bear worked his way to the front of the listeners and his dollar joined others. 

With a glance at Starsky, Hutch got Bennie started on ‘Blowin’ in the Wind.’ 

Starsky turned to their friend when Huggy squatted next to him, keeping his voice down. “Dobey called. He said the prediction is for colder than usual temps for the next few nights. He wanted to know if you’re ready to give it up.”

“Tell him, thanks, Hug,” Starsky said softly. “We appreciate the thought, but we’ll stick it out a while longer. Our crate’s fairly warm and we really want to catch this guy.”

“What about an extra blanket?”

“Wouldn’t say no to that!”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Huggy rose to his feet but, apparently remembering something, crouched back down. “Oh, yeah, Dobey also said to tell you that Minnie’s found two similar deaths.”

Never missing a beat on his can lid, Starsky whispered, “Where?”

“San Diego.”

With that, he missed the tempo for a moment but picked it up quickly. “When?” 

Huggy pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Last year. August fourth, and September sixteenth.”

Starsky took the information and stuffed it in his own pocket. “Thanks, Hug.”

Huggy touched his arm. “Take care, m’ brother. I’ll send a couple of blankets down.” 

After he’d sauntered away, and Bennie left for the bus station across the street to take a leak, Starsky told Hutch what Huggy had said. 

“San Diego, huh?” Hutch mused.

“We need to find out if Sam or Arthur was down there during that time.”

“I’d sure hate to think one of them is the killer but it would fit.”

“Sure would,” Starsky agreed. “Oh, and, before Bennie gets back, Dobey says the next few nights are going to be colder - wants to know if we’re ready to quit.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Not yet.” Starsky grinned suddenly. “But ain’t that sweet? Dobey’s worried about us.”

Hutch punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Of course he is, dummy. He wants whoever’s killing vagrants in jail, not his two new lieutenants in the hospital with pneumonia.”

“Yeah.”

*******

That night, they walked the underpass separately, Starsky taking the perimeter of the clustered boxes, Hutch the interior.

Starsky was primed, attuned, ready. When he heard a grunt he identified immediately as coming from Hutch, he sprinted toward the sound.

Hutch was in a stand-up wrestling match with a figure in ragged clothing and the dim available light glinted off the blade of a knife held in the gloved right hand of the attacker. Hutch had both his hands around the raised wrist, keeping the point of the weapon above their heads.

Starsky grabbed the attacker around the neck and separated the combatants, Hutch ending up with the knife. 

The figure was all frantic arms and legs and Starsky could barely maintain his hold. Hutch stuck the knife in the outside pocket of his coat and grabbed both arms of the assailant. No one had said a word but their struggling bodies and scuffling feet made considerable noise. 

Just as the attacker seemed to be tiring, Starsky felt a searing pain in his lower back and lost his grip on the figure.

Homeless men, evidently awakened by the scuffle, started shouting and crawling out of their cribs. 

Starsky’s knees buckled and as Hutch must have realized he’d been hurt, the would-be-killer slipped away from both of them and vanished. Starsky never got a glimpse of the person behind him with the second knife. 

Hutch caught him before he fell, letting him down gently. “Somebody get the cops!” he yelled. “Tell ’em ‘officer down.’ Do it now!” 

Bennie knelt next to them and offered a folded towel. “It’s pretty clean.”

Hutch gently pulled Starsky forward. He grabbed the towel and pain surged through Starsky as it was pressed against the wound. “Feels like he got me pretty good, Hutch,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Hutch sat on the ground and enfolded him. “Naw,” he said dismissively. “Probably just a flesh wound.”

Starsky smothered a laugh because he knew it would hurt too much and tried to relax in his partner’s arms.

“Hang on, buddy. Help’s on the way,” Hutch murmured.

“You guys are cops, huh?” Bennie asked.

“Yeah, Bennie,” Hutch admitted. “We are.”

“Thought so. You’re here to stop the guy that’s been takin’ us out.”

Hutch nodded. “That was the plan.”

Starsky sucked in a breath as the pain bit. “Two of ‘em, Hutch. Did you see whoever was behind me?”

“No, Starsk, I didn’t. I was kind of concentrating on the one I was struggling with, then trying to figure out where to put the damn knife when you pulled him off me. After that, I knew you’d been hurt and nothing else mattered.”

Starsky shrugged, and that hurt, too. “‘s okay. Pretty sure we know who they are now, though. Right?”

Hutch accepted another folded towel from someone and pressed it against Starsky’s back. “Right.” 

Uniformed cops boiled out of patrol cars arriving from several directions and sirens in the distance were a good sound. 

*******

Starsky’s hospital room was more crowded than policy allowed but no one on staff was willing to put his or her career on the line by trying to evict Hutch or Captain Dobey. 

As the door closed behind the last doctor, Dobey pulled up a chair and sat heavily. Hutch stayed at Starsky’s side, holding his left hand. The right arm had a plasma line attached to it. Pain medication and antibiotics had already been administered.

“You’ve done it again, Starsky,” Dobey huffed. “But at least it’s good news this time. No vital organs damaged and, due apparently to relatively clean towels being supplied by the men you two have championed, not too much blood-loss. It could have been a lot worse!”

Starsky had to give it to their captain - he’d managed to make the night’s incident sound almost amusing. He glanced up at Hutch and couldn’t keep a gleam out of his eye. With a nod, he silently told Hutch to take the floor.

Hutch squeezed his hand before addressing Dobey. “That’s right, Captain. Plus, we think we’ve identified the killer.”

“Killers,” Starsky muttered.

That caught Dobey’s attention and he sat up straight. “Plural?”

“Yes, sir,” Hutch replied. “We believe it’s Arthur and Samantha Davies, the people who run the mission.”

Dobey surged to his feet. “Why in the world….? Are you sure?”

“Not a hundred percent,” Starsky said. “But we’ll find out in the morning.”

“Now wait just a minute, you can’t --”

Hutch held up his unencumbered hand. “Yes, he can, sir. I’ll be right there and I won’t let him do anything except stand on his feet.”

“We think they’ll be so surprised to see me,” Starsky continued, “they’ll give themselves away. Somehow.”

“But the doctor said --”

“Yes, sir,” Starsky interrupted. “I know what he said. And, if we can get a confession out of either one of them, I’ll come right back here.”

Hutch put on his most persuasive voice: “I won’t let anything else happen to him, Captain. That’s a promise.”

Dobey glared at them. “I’m going to hold you to that, Hutchinson!” 

*******

Hutch wasn’t any happier with his partner’s insistence than Dobey had been but went along with the plan because Starsky would have been a basket case otherwise. 

They’d talked about it in the ambulance and the pieces had fallen into place. Now, with uniformed officers surrounding the mission, and all the homeless already inside, Hutch opened the door for Starsky and walked in on his heels. Hutch knew what it was costing Starsky to appear uninjured and his heart swelled with pride. 

At the far end of the room, Samantha and Arthur were serving breakfast to the last few men in line. They both looked up when Starsky and Hutch walked in. 

Arthur’s eyes went wide but it was Sam who dropped the filled plate she was handing to Tom, and backed against the wall. “Why can’t you stay _dead_?” she screamed. “How many times do I have to _kill_ you?”

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing or saying and stared at her. Uniformed cops came in from the kitchen and through the front door. Dobey was with them.

Two uniforms went behind the counter and cuffed Sam. Wordlessly, Arthur turned, putting his hands behind his back, as two more cops approached him.

With the brother and sister standing side by side at the end of the counter, Starsky recited their rights before they were taken away.

Dobey stepped up next to them. “It’s back to the hospital with you, Starsky!”

Starsky leaned against Hutch but shook his head. “Not just yet, Cap. Hutch and I need to do the interviews. There’s still too much we don’t know about all this.”

Dobey bristled but it was plain he wasn’t going to argue too hard.

*******

Starsky and Hutch allowed the booking procedure to take place without them; they waited in an interview room. They knew that Dobey was watching from behind the mirror.

When Arthur was brought in, he was subdued and sat calmly on the other side of the table. The officer who had escorted him, stood at the door. 

“You know you’re entitled to an attorney, Mr. Davies,” Hutch began. 

“Yes, I know,” Arthur replied. He met their eyes and sighed. “And, eventually, I guess Sam and I will have one. But, for right now, I might as well tell you everything.”

Starsky shifted on the uncomfortable chair. He was pretty sure the pain medication he’d been given was going to have worn off by the time this was all over but there was no way he was going to miss a minute of it. “Whenever you’re ready, then, Arthur.”

Hutch leaned against his shoulder in total, silent support.

“Dad tried,” Arthur stated, his voice sad. “So many times. He’d come home, swear to mom that he was clean, swore he’d never go back to the stuff or the streets, and he’d be okay for a few days, a few weeks, or even months. But then he’d vanish and we’d find him with the bums.” He glanced around. “Uh, could I have some water, please?”

Hutch nodded at the guard and he left for a minute. When he came back, he placed a paper cup of water on the table.

Arthur took a few swallows before he lowered the cup in his cuffed hands and continued. “When the police showed up to tell us father was dead, I knew Sam had killed him. But they didn’t. We were all questioned, of course, and I think they suspected mom, but there had been no witnesses and Sam had left no clues. Eventually, the detectives stopped coming around.”

He finished the water but kept the empty cup in his hands. “Once Sam had talked me into opening the missions, ‘to help them,’ she said, I hoped she’d gotten over her hatred. And things were good… until the first look-alike showed up. Sam was very quiet for a couple of days, then we were told the man had been stabbed to death in his hovel. I knew Sam had been out that night but I covered for her.” He shrugged. “I’ve been covering for her ever since. The last three times, I went with her, to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. I’m the one who hurt you, Mr. Stanley.”

The door opened and Dobey came in with a yellow pad of paper and a pen which he placed in front of Arthur. “Write it all down, please, Mr. Davies. My detective, here, needs to get his ass back to the hospital!”

Starsky got to his feet, with only a little help from Hutch, and headed for the door.

Arthur stopped them with soft words: “I’m very sorry.”

Starsky looked back, feeling nothing now except regret. “So are we, Arthur.”

******* 

Two days later, Starsky was out of the hospital and feeling much better, when he and Hutch met Elijah and Charles coming out of the city’s new shelter. 

“Hey, Starsky! Hutch!” Elijah pumped both their hands. Charles, the quiet one of the duo, waited his turn, shaking each of their hands silently.

“We really enjoyed this wonderful facility.” Elijah gestured over his shoulder. “But, honestly, we can’t wait to get back out where we belong.”

Hutch smiled. “Officers have made sure your… homes and possessions weren’t appropriated by anyone. They’re waiting for you.”

Elijah returned the smile. “Thanks, fellas! That means a lot to us.”

Before they could move off, Hutch and Starsky both dug some bills out of their pockets and handed them to Elijah. 

“Put in a good word for us, please,” Hutch said.

Elijah appeared embarrassed. “Aw, you two don’t need a good word from us, Hutch.”

Starsky put his arm around Hutch’s shoulders. “All the same, Elijah, we’d appreciate it.”

The two cops and the two bums went their separate ways.

 

THE END


End file.
